Riding Solo
by Aussielover
Summary: With his partner gone on vacation, a routine day of patrolling turned out to be not so routine. Riding solo could cost him his life.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Adam-12, but just appreciate the opportunity to create a new story using the men of the LAPD and even the brief use of two paramedics from Emergency. Hope you enjoy the ride.

Riding Solo

Chapter One

Buttoned-up collar, tie in place, gun belt cinched, and sharp shooting medal and badge pinned on ... Los Angeles Police Officer Badge Number 744 was dressed and ready for the day. He closed his locker and turned for the door.

Another officer stepped around the end row of lockers, "Hey, Pete, where's Jim this morning?" Jerry Woods asked.

"Morning, Jerry. He took Jean on a weekend trip down to San Diego."

"Nice. Any special occasion?" Jerry messed around with his tie.

"I believe they're celebrating their five-year anniversary."

"Sounds great. So, what are you gonna do for a partner?"

Pete gathered up his brief case and then the two men walked out right behind one another headed for roll call. "I guess I'll find out in a few minutes. Why, are you looking to escape your partner?"

"Who are you kidding? Brinkman can't live without me."

Both men hustled in and sat in two open seats in the second row. The room was filled with over twenty officers dressed in blue. Mac was up front shuffling through a stack of papers. The noise level was modest, but the Sergeant quickly quieted the place with a loud clearing of his throat.

"OK, men, let's get started. I just need to review what's been happening on our streets. We are still having a rash of 459's in the West Hollywood neighborhood. Most burglaries have occurred during the day when no one is home. The thefts seem to be focused on big-ticket items like stereos and televisions. It's a "crash and grab" scenario with back windows and doors being the common source of entry.

Next, we are dealing with a run of purse snatching incidents in Griffith Park. The common target seems to be young mothers who can't leave their children. I want to see some extra patrols through the park.

Last, but not least, we have some smaller wildfires still burning in the San Gabriel Mountains. We may have some areas with reduced visibility from the smoke blowing through. This could lead to some traffic issues. Ok, any questions?"

Ed Wells spoke up, "Do we have any leads on the burglars or the purse snatchers?"

"Good question. No line on the 459's, but they are suspicious of a possible gang connection with the purse snatching reports and wonder if it's an initiation thing."

Mac started rattling off the pairings for the day and ended with Brinkman and Woods. "Grant, you take this tour on the bike and Malloy, I have you signed up for an L-car today. Be careful out there."

Jerry looked at Pete and said, "Riding solo for the day, I see. That should make for a quiet day."

Pete glanced at Jerry and thought; _Sometimes quiet is a good thing especially with you. _Pete thought Jim was a talker, but he couldn't hold a candle to Jerry.

"Maybe we can meet up for lunch."

"Yeah, sure. Let's see how the day goes."

The men followed each other out of the meeting room with a quick stop at the arsenal to sign out their shotguns.

Pete loaded his cruiser with his gear and settled in L-10 for the day shift.

As he pulled out of the police garage he grabbed the mike and said, "This is L-10, clear for AM shift."

Pete started his patrol with a pass through Griffith Park. It was still a bit early in the morning to have much activity in the playground areas. All was quiet at this point. Pete continued west and made his first traffic stop a short while later on the entrance ramp to Ventura Freeway. It was there that a pickup truck lost a tire from his bed that landed in the middle of the roadway causing cars to swerve. First, he radioed in the road hazard stop. Then he parked with his flashers on just a few feet behind the tire to redirect the entering cars along the left shoulder to safety miss the object. The service station worker appreciated the help and got the wheel off the road and loaded it into the back of his vehicle.

After Pete started to patrol again, he thought; _one crisis averted. _

In the quiet of the squad Pete reflected on his partner. _I wonder what Jim is up to with Jean. Maybe he took her deep-sea fishing. San Diego has a great reputation for that. _ He shook his head. _I doubt she'd do it. That's something Jim and I should do._

_I might just have to stop over at Jim's mother-in-law's house to see Jimmy while they're gone. Maybe I can get a hot meal and some time with my godson._

The radio sparked to life, "1-Adam-24, there is a possible purse-snatcher in Griffith Park near the merry-go-round, handle code 3." Brinkman voiced, "1-Adam-24, roger."

Pete responded, "This is L-10, I'll backup 1-Adam-24." He sped through the northeast corner of the park watching for any suspects possibly fleeing the area.

Woods radioed that Brinkman was in foot pursuit of one suspect running west at the Park Center playground. Woods gave a supplemental: One Caucasian male, 5'8" - 5'10", blonde hair, 170 lbs, wearing tan shorts and pale blue shirt. Jerry then turned his attention to the victim in the snatching incident. The woman was quite frantic, but Jerry had her and her toddler sit down on a close park bench. "Ma'am, take a deep breath. Now, when you're ready, go ahead and share your account of what happened." Jerry had his pen and pad ready to jot down the report.

In the meantime, Pete knew the suspect was headed in his direction. He positioned his squad to block the exit from the parking lot and road leaving the Park Center playground. He radioed in his location to dispatch, then propped open his driver's side door and stood up to scout out the area. Seconds later, the suspect darted out of the bushes, still carrying a brown purse. The young man spotted the black-and-white ahead closing off his exit route then rashly decided to toss the bag into some tall bushes. Then, he changed his escape plan by dashing into an open grassy area to the south of the lot. The less-than-athletic Brinkman struggled to close on the suspect and was just barely able to see him toss the purse into the greenery. With fresh legs, Pete took up the chase. He made up some ground rapidly, then as the suspect slowed going up a small hill, he closed the gap and dove for his legs. Pete just caught the suspect's ankles and brought him down. He quickly subdued him and snapped on the handcuffs. As he pulled the man to his feet, Brinkman arrived with the purse in hand, a torn sleeve, and a trickle of blood running down his right cheek.

Still slightly winded, Pete asked, "What happened to you, Brinkman?"

"The guy threw the bag into a THORN bush! It didn't want to give it up."

"Well, being that you're injured and all, I'll walk your prisoner back to your squad for you."

"You're such a pal, Pete." Bob shook his head feeling embarrassed.

Both officers marched back to Adam-24 with the suspect in tow. Jerry spotted them coming and radioed in a code four after reassuring the victim to sit tight for a few more minutes.

"Jerry, do you want to read him his rights?"

"I got it, Pete. Thanks for the backup." He helped load the man into the car and then proceeded with the Miranda rights as the door sat open.

Pete then handed Bob his handkerchief. "You might want to have that wound looked at," Pete stated with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah!"

Jerry finished with the suspect and joined Pete and Bob at the rear of the squad. "What happened to you, Partner?" Brinkman stood there with the hanky pressed to his cheek.

Pete interjected, "He was mauled by a bush." Still with a big grin, "You better get him checked out."

"Brinkman, would you show the victim the bag to confirm it belongs to her?

"Ok, Jerry." He made his way over the bench where the mother and child waited.

Pete cruised some side streets on the west side of LA after a brief lunch with Woods and Brinkman at the station. The area was a collection of lower-income, single-family homes and clusters of two or three-story apartments. Though it was busy, the day seemed to be dragging on. After turning the corner at Vermont and 43rd, Pete caught a glimpse of a young boy possibly crying. He looked about eight years old, and appeared to be dragging a brown strap as he wandered down the sidewalk. With the radio quiet, Pete pulled over to the curb and parked, then stepped out to check on the boy. Pete heard the child sniffling as he came around the rear of the car and approached him. "Hi, I'm Officer Malloy. What's your name, son?"

Acting a bit shy he lowered his gaze to the ground as he answered, "My name is Tommy Olson."

"OK. Tommy, can I help you with something?" Pete kneeled down in front of the boy trying to be less intimidating.

The blue-eyed and brown-haired boy rubbed his fist across his damp cheek as he stood in front of Pete. He sadly gazed down at the empty brown leash he still held tight in his grasp. The boy wore a white plaid shirt and slightly tattered tan pants. He looked up at Pete and mumbled, "I lost Buster."

"When did you lose Buster?"

"Just a few minutes ago."

"Buster is your dog, right?"

"Yes. Sir."

Pete put a hand on Tommy's shoulder. "This is what we are going to do. I will radio in Buster's description so all the officers can keep a look out for him. Then, you and I can walk around the neighborhood together."

Tommy's eyes brightened up with a new hope of finding his lost buddy.

"Can you tell me a little more about Buster and what he looks like?"

"He's a beagle. He has big ears and a long tail. He's tan and white and this big." Tommy held his hand about a foot high off the ground showing Pete the size of the dog. "He has a red collar too."

Pete opened up the passenger side door and grabbed out the mike. "This is L-10, code 6 at the 1100 block of 43rd Street. Assisting in the search for one tan and white beagle named Buster wearing a red collar.

Pete locked up the squad and joined Tommy. "So, where was the last place you saw Buster?"

Tommy pointed back toward the alley. "That way."

"I guess that's where we should start looking then." The two walked past a small rail fence along the corner two-story home. They turned to travel down the alley between the buildings. Garbage cans and shrubs bordered the gravel-lined alley. The area was quiet with little activity for the early afternoon. "How did you lose Buster?" Pete asked trying to keep the boy talking.

"He got scared by a loud noise and the leash broke." He showed Pete the end of the leash where the snap tore away.

"How old are you, Tommy?"

"I'm nine years old, Sir."

"You can call me Pete." The boy glanced over at Pete and nodded his head.

Pete was impressed with how Tommy was handling the crisis. "Where were you when Buster broke free?"

"Just up here." Tommy pointed toward a black Pinto parked a few yards up the alley.

Pete wondered how far the dog really might have run. Maybe he found something to distract him, or he could be sniffing around nearby, or maybe he just ran home. Many of the backyards were fenced and limited the dog from even getting inside.

"Is your home close by?"

"Yep."

"Tommy, could Buster have run home?"

"I don't think so. He was running in the other direction when he got scared."

"Tommy, you should keep calling to Buster." The boy was walking on one side of the alley calling out to the dog while Pete walked on the other side of the alley looking for any openings in the fence or an open gate.

Pete spotted an open chain-linked gate to a two-story apartment. The white stucco with red-trimmed building was run-down and even looked vacant with some boarded-up windows on both levels. Pete walked through the gate into the backyard of the building calling to Buster. He noticed some fast food wrappers littered along the broken cement path to the building.

In the meantime, Tommy continued to peek around bushes in the alley near an overflowing dumpster.

As Malloy walked up to the building he saw a red-framed screen door propped open. Inside the building was a red metal stairwell to the second floor. At the bottom of the stairs was a door labeled Apt. 2B. He noticed the bottom panel in the door was broken and had enough space for a beagle to possibly slip through. He tried the knob, and it turned easily. Pete pushed open the door and called out, "Anyone home?" As he stepped into the main room of the apartment he heard a jingle. _Could it be some dog tags? _The room had plain off-white walls with only modest light breaking through the boarded up windows. A dilapidated brown couch and small coffee table sat in the center of a filthy tan carpet. He saw a closed-door straight ahead and a similar one to his left. Across the room was a narrow doorway to what looked like a kitchen.

"Buster?" Pete called again.

Up popped a beagle face from a small pile of garbage on the kitchen floor. The dog trotted over to the officer, and Malloy squatted down to pet the animal. He noted the red collar and the snap dangling from the buckle. "Hello Buster. Someone has been looking for you."

Just then the door to the right of the kitchen flung open. Two men came charging out. One guy was a shaggy blond with a dark mustache down to his chin and weighing around two hundred pounds dressed in a busy open-collar shirt buttoned only a few inches above his waist. A large silver belt buckle with a blue peace sign was at the top of the bell-bottom jeans he wore. The other man, about fifteen pounds lighter than the first, wore a white t-shirt, gray zippered jacket, and black jeans.

The blonde yelled as he came through the door first, "Who the hell is in here!" He spotted the man crouched over the dog, but still hadn't seen his Los Angeles police badge.

Pete's gut tightened as the situation unfolded. His left hand was on the dog, and his right was on his weapon. "Hey, I was just looking for this lost dog." Pete spoke cautiously, still not knowing the circumstances.

The second man shouted with the recognition of the uniform, "He's a cop!"

Feeling threatened, Pete stood and went to pull his weapon when a third man busted through the door to his left with a pistol in his outstretched hand pointed at his chest. "Go ahead, Pig. Draw!" The man garbled out between quick breaths. Pete froze as he looked past the gun into the taller man's bloodshot eyes.

He submitted and slowly raised his hands. "OK! OK!" Pete's next thought went to Tommy who was just outside in the alley. He couldn't have him walk in. He had to get the dog out of here. Just then, Pete heard the boy call out for Buster in the distance. "I don't know what's going on here. I just need to get this dog back home." Buster seemed startled as well and gazed up at Pete.

The third man acted agitated and under the influence of something. He waved the gun at the officer. "Sure, I'll send this dog home!" He hauled off and kicked the beagle and sent the squealing pup flying across the floor toward the door.

Pete bit his lip as he stared at the barrel of the gun. Under his breath he said, "That wasn't necessary." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the dog scrambled to get up and darted out the door. _Thank God. Go to Tommy. Go home._

"Jay, get his gun!" The guy in the t-shirt and jacket pulled Pete's weapon from the holster. Pete suddenly took notice of some drug paraphernalia in plain site. On the coffee table sat a pipe and matches.

As Jay stuffed the gun in his waistband, he asked, "Derrick, what are we going to do with him?" The blonde grabbed Pete's arm and yanked him toward the couch. "Have a seat, Cop! I got to think for a minute."

Hoping that these were stupid felons, Pete started to talk, "Hey guys, nothing illegal has happened yet. Let's just go our separate ways."

Jay, the nervous one, said, "Could it be that simple?"

The big man spoke up as he stood over Pete on the couch still with a twitchy gun in hand. "I'll take care of him."

"Hold your horses, Bert!" The blonde paced up and down the floor for a minute rubbing his chin as he thought.

Jay peered out between the boards in the window. He watched a young boy hug the small gimpy dog and tie on a strap to the collar. The boy paused and looked around as if waiting for someone. After a few moments he finally wandered down the alley. "The boy and dog are gone."

"Don't move, Cop!" Derrick pointed to Bert to watch over Pete then called over Jay, and the two went into the kitchen to talk. The blonde seemed to be the one in charge, and he suggested a way to dispose of their problem. "We won't be able to come back here to the apartment, but we will have time to clear it." Derrick looked at Jay and said, "Get the junk. I'll tell Bert."

Jay whispered to Derrick, "Are you sure about this?"

"Would you rather go to prison?"

Jay shook his head and quickly retreated to the bedroom.

Derrick walked around the couch and went to whisper into the big man's ear the plan while Jay collected what they needed.

Pete felt the pressure to move and made a break for the kitchen window, but Bert reached over with his long arms and yanked him back down roughly onto the couch. Pete felt trapped, but at least he was relieved Tommy and Buster were safe.

Jay returned to the room then he placed a combination of items on the coffee table, which included a rubber tourniquet, a large spoon, a small brown vial, syringes, needles, and a lighter.

Before the items registered in Pete's brain such that he knew their plan, Derrick demanded, "Hold'em Bert!" At that moment, the big man reached around Malloy with a bear hug hold that immobilized both of Pete's arms just below the shoulders. Jay tapped a fresh pile of white powder onto the large metal spoon, flicked his lighter open, ignited it, and then held the flame below the spoon.

Pete started to struggle as he wrapped his head around what was going on. "What the heck?"

Derrick spoke up, "Relax, Malloy! Enjoy the ride!" He roughly grabbed Pete's right hand and twisted it so his palm was up. With his other hand he took hold of Pete's cuff and yanked it till it tore and then pulled it above his elbow exposing his veins.

"No!" Pete blurted out. The realization of what the men planned to do to him brought about complete panic. Pete's breath quickened and his heart pounded. He tried with all his might to wrestle himself out of Bert's grasp, but the man outweighed him by at least fifty pounds.

"Don't fight it, Cop. This is a much better way to go."

Jay drew up the heated liquefied heroin into the syringe. "It's ready."

"Jay, help me put on the tourniquet." Derrick held tight to Malloy's wrist while the tourniquet was strapped above his elbow. "Wow, look at those veins, boys. Nice and clean!"

Jay then handed the syringe to Derrick.

"No! Don't!" Malloy cried out.

Pete continued to struggle and kicked over the coffee table sending everything on it flying.

Derrick cranked Pete's arm straight out then made a quick prick of the needle into the raised and pumped-up vein with the officer's blood pressure sky high.

He released the tourniquet then pushed the high dose into the vein and within seconds the drug started to take over. Pete felt the initial sting of the needle, then in less than a minute an overwhelming rush of warmth spread throughout his body. His mouth was almost instantly dry and his arms and legs felt like dead weight. His whole body relaxed, and he could barely hold his eyes open. Bert felt no fight left in the man and released him from his tight hold. Pete sank into the couch cushions in his drug-induced state. Derrick grabbed Malloy's chin and looked into his eyes and noted the constricting pupils, which were an obvious sign of the drug at work.

"Ok, let's get this place cleaned out. Don't leave anything that might point to us." The men divided up between the various rooms to clear the place. Pete lay like a limp doll on the couch with his heavy eyelids barely cracked open.

All three men had gathered up the remains of drug paraphernalia and were ready to leave. Jay looked to Derrick. "Are we just going to leave him here?"

"Yeah, that's the plan."

"Is he going die?"

"What do you think?" Derrick looked at Jay like he was an idiot.

Big Bert spoke up, "How much did you give him?"

"Maybe 30mg got shot. Too bad we had to waste so much on him." Derrick stated as the businessman among them.

The three split out the back and down the alley.

Left behind in the stripped down apartment was the semi-conscious officer. Malloy was zapped of any energy or strength. He wasn't feeling any pain, but the effort to breathe became more and more difficult. His body was telling him to sleep, but a loud voice in his head shouted, "Get up! Get out of here!" He fought to open his eyes, but it felt like bricks were weighing them down. _Is it worth fighting? _It seemed like someone began to shake him. A voice yelled... "Get up!" Pete battled to open them again and managed to crack them slightly. The room looked distorted... and blurry... and started to spin... then his stomach tightened and bile rose in his dry throat. Again, he heard someone scream at him, "Get out of here or you'll die!" He tried to cover his ears with his hands, but they just wouldn't move enough.

Pete slowly turned his head toward the door where he thought the voice came from. He slurred out, "Jim?" His mind was fighting with his body to respond. "Go," he said to himself. Sudden muscle spasms swept through his extremities this time. He leaned forward on the couch with the intention to stand, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed to his hands and knees. He struggled for a deep breath as his lips started to turn a bluish tinge. By pure willpower he managed to crawl to the damaged red door and grasped the knob to open it.

Again the voice rang out of his friend and partner, "Pete, get up!" With one last push, the fading Malloy dragged himself up; he staggered out through the opened screen door into the backyard before falling flat on the cement sidewalk.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Riding Solo

Dispatch sent another car, Adam-24, to the 1100 block of 43rd Street where L-10 last reported being code 6. Woods spotted Malloy's car parked at the corner of 43rd and Kansas. It had been over forty minutes since he had first radioed, and Mac wanted an update. Brinkman called in the empty squad's location, and explained they were patrolling the area for the officer.

They cruised around the entire block and saw no sign of Malloy. "Jerry, what do you think happened?"

"He probably found the dog and walked it home." He was trying to not sound alarmed.

"Hey, maybe the owner is a beautiful woman, and Pete turned on the charm to get a date."

"Really, Bob, how stupid is that?" Woods just shook his head in disbelief.

"Isn't he called the Strawberry Fox?"

"That question doesn't justify an answer."

After circling the block Jerry looked at Brinkman, "Why don't you start knocking on some doors? I'll take the squad down the alley."

Bob climbed out and donned his hat. He walked around L-10 to confirm it was locked up then went up to the corner two-story house and knocked. Woods backed up and turned the squad into the alley. He started to get that bad feeling in his gut as he slowly drove through the block. About halfway through Jerry saw a man sprawled out on the ground in a backyard. He slammed the cruiser into park, hit the horn to signal Brinkman, and then grabbed the mike, "Officer down, send an ambulance code 3 to Kansas and 43rd Street in the alley."

Woods rushed over to the downed officer. Malloy laid face down and wasn't moving. Jerry shook Pete's shoulder and asked, "Pete, can you hear me?" But there was no response. He carefully rolled him over as Brinkman arrived. He felt for a pulse and found a very slow one.

Brinkman in a panic noticed Pete's lips were blue. "I don't think he's breathing!"

Jerry leaned over his mouth and nose to feel for a breath, but neither heard nor felt nothing. Though Jerry had little training, he kneeled beside Pete, held his nose, tilted his head back, and gave a quick breath. He repeated it half a dozen times when they both heard the siren approaching. Bob waved over the ambulance attendants.

"He's not breathing!" He shouted to them. Right behind the ambulance pulled up a rescue squad. Two men dressed in blue firefighter uniforms raced around the red unit grabbing equipment they would probably need.

The dark haired paramedic arrived first and asked, "What have we got?"

"We just found him like this. He's not breathing, but I think he has a pulse."

Johnny turned back to his partner and shouted, "Grab the Ambu bag!"

He took a quick pulse as Roy arrived and kneeled by Pete's head then placed the Ambu bag over his mouth and nose to start ventilating the officer. Johnny started examining him for what was going on. He flashed a penlight across Pete's eyes and noted the pinpoint pupils and then proceeded to run his hands down the officer's sides and arms. That's when he found the ripped sleeve and the fresh needle track in his right arm. Johnny glanced up at Roy, "He has a needle track here."

Johnny continued checking down both his legs, but found nothing else to explain Malloy's condition. He ripped open Pete's uniform shirt then cut through his undershirt to hook up the EKG leads. Next, he cut up the other sleeve to make access for an IV and applied a blood pressure cuff above it. Roy asked Brinkman to take over bagging Pete at the same pace so he could call Rampart. Bob just nodded his head and shuffled into a position right over Pete's head.

Roy flipped open the bio-phone and called, "Rampart, this is Squad 51"

"Go ahead 51."

"We have one male victim, approximately 35 years old, unconscious, and not breathing on his own. Vitals are to follow: BP 80 over 40, Pulse 30, pupils pinpoint and non-reactive. The victim has a blue tinge to his lips and fingertips and has a fresh track mark on his right arm. Rampart, we are ventilating the victim and just hooked up an EKG, sending you lead 2 now."

"Squad 51, have you found any drugs at the scene?"

"Rampart, the victim is a uniformed police officer. No drugs have been found at the scene yet, but with the track in his arm and no other signs of injury we are highly suspicious of an overdose."

"51, start an IV with lactated ringers, and push 2 mg of Naloxone IV"

Roy quickly repeated back to the doctor, "Rampart, IV with lactated ringers and 2mg of Naloxone IV, roger"

Johnny got the IV placed and running wide open with the fluids. After giving the intravenous reversal drug they lifted Pete onto the gurney and strapped him in. Roy took over ventilations again as he loaded him in the ambulance. Johnny picked up his gear then he looked to Officer Woods and said, "If you find anything or a drug that would explain what happened to Malloy call Rampart."

"Will do." For a few seconds, Jerry stood there along with Brinkman in a state of shock and disbelief. Both looked down at the medical trash left behind on the ground. Jerry tapped Brinkman's shoulder, "Let's do our job and search this place for any evidence." Woods paused for a second then said, "We need to catch whoever did this to Pete." Both officers glanced at each other with a quick unthinkable thought. Neither would verbalize the possibility of a fellow officer having a drug problem.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Back in the alley, Woods called into dispatch, then was directed to Tac 2. Mac came on the radio and asked, "What's the status on Pete?"

Jerry hesitated to speak, "He isn't good, Mac. He wasn't breathing."

"What happened?"

"I found him lying unconscious in an apartment backyard. He was missing his gun, and the only thing the paramedics found were needle marks on his arm."

There was a long pause as the Sergeant digested the comments from Woods. "Any signs of a boy or a dog?"

"Not so far, but we will keep asking around the neighborhood."

"Ok Jerry, I'll send out some detectives to the scene. I'm heading to the hospital to check on Pete's condition. Hopefully, he can tell me if we're dealing with a kidnapping."

Johnny climbed into the squad to follow the ambulance in to the hospital. After the ambulance doors closed, Roy noticed Pete starting to breathe on his own. They were shallow breaths, so Roy continued to aid him with the Ambu bag. If they guessed right about the overdose, Pete would be coming to quickly and other symptoms could soon follow. With one hand he juggled the bio-phone to give Rampart an update on Malloy's condition.

Over the next five minutes Pete's respiration rate quickened but he also began to sweat profusely. His head rolled from side to side and out came a low moan as consciousness began to return. With a hand on the officer's shoulder Roy asked, "Pete, can you hear me?"

His eyes were still pinched shut, but he managed to say a ragged, "Yes." Roy settled an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose with his breathing much improved and the blue tinge gone from his lips. .

"Pete, it's me, Roy DeSoto. You're in an ambulance in route to Rampart Hospital. Just try to take some deep breaths."

The driver of the ambulance shouted over his shoulder, "We're two minutes out."

Roy was getting a new set of vitals when Pete started to cramp up and tried to roll to his side. Roy loosened the gurney straps and helped position Pete on his side in case he needed to vomit.

Muscle spasms were wreaking havoc on his body, with one intense stomach cramp causing him to throw up. Fortunately, Roy pulled aside the O2 mask in time so the contents went into a basin.

"Hang in there, Pete. We're at the hospital."

The ambulance backed into the emergency bay and the attendants off loaded Pete with Roy walking right beside the gurney. Wheeling through the hospital hallway, Dixie, the head nurse, directed Roy and the attendants to Treatment Room Two. The men moved Malloy from the gurney to the treatment table and swiftly exited the room. Dr. Brackett arrived and asked Roy for a rundown on his patient while he started to look over Pete himself. Roy recited his last set of improved vitals then shared, "He's now conscious and experiencing generalized muscle cramping and severe nausea with one bout of vomiting."

"Ok, thanks Roy." Brackett called out some orders to Dixie and another nurse in the room with the main request being to draw a TOX screen, blood gases, and a full profile.

Roy offered, "Do you need anything else from me, Doc?"

"No, we're good."

Roy looked down at Malloy, "You're in good hands, Pete."

Kel leaned down closer to his patient and started asking some questions. With a hand resting on Malloy's arm he asked, "Pete, it's Doctor Brackett, can you tell me what happened?"

"I walked ... into a drug ... deal." Pete paused and twitched with a restlessness he couldn't control. He struggled to concentrate and speak coherently. "I couldn't ... stop them ... they ... injected me." He grimaced as another wave of muscle spasms hit.

"Alright, Pete. Do you know what drug they gave you?"

"I think ... it was ... heroin."

"Ok, Pete. I think you're going be fine, but we are going to set you up in ICU for monitoring. The problem with a drug overdose is the reversal agent will wear off and the heroine effects can return until it's completely out of your system. If all goes well, you will be out of here tomorrow."

Pete nodded his acknowledgement, but said nothing as he clinched his teeth hoping to keep the vomit at bay.

Seeing the distressed look on Pete's face, Doctor Brackett said, "Pete, there can be some undesirable side effects from these drugs, so we'll do our best to ease your discomfort."

"Thanks" was all Pete could get out before his stomach cramped up and he couldn't stop the retching. Brackett helped the officer lean over and safely vomit into a small pail.

"Dixie get me 12.5 mg of Anzemet." Brackett eased Pete back down on the table. As he gave the drug into his IV line he said, "This should help with the nausea."

Nurse Carol delivered in the tox results and the other blood tests Brackett ordered.

After seeing the levels of heroin in Malloy's screen, Kel pulled Dixie aside to go over some orders for him. "Let's get him settled into ICU ASAP. I want vitals every fifteen minutes because I need to know how quickly the Naloxone is going to wear off."

Pete started to feel some relief when Kel came over once more. "Pete, I'll check on you in ICU in about thirty minutes." Brackett left the treatment room as Dixie came alongside the table.

"Carol, can you call an orderly? We may need some help getting him undressed and up to ICU."

"OK, Nurse McCall."

Dix looked down into the officer's eyes. "How are you, Pete?"

With a small smirk, "Better, ... I think."

Dix gave a little wink to Pete as she spoke, "Well, we need to get this uniform off of you, then we'll get you in our hospital dress code and up to ICU." She started scissoring off the rest of his shirt then moved down to his belt. "I'll get your badge and gear to your superior."

The word "superior" sparked a memory in Pete. "Tommy?"

Out in the waiting room, Kel saw Sergeant McDonald pacing the floor. Brackett, with his hands in his long white coat pockets and wearing a pale yellow button-down shirt and striped tie, approached the officer.

"Sergeant?"

"Yes." He held out his hand to shake and introduce himself, "I'm Bill MacDonald, but everyone calls me Mac."

"Ok Mac, have a seat." The two men sat down facing each other. "I think Officer Malloy will be alright. He received an extremely high dose of injectable heroin, but fortunately he has responded well to the reversing agent. He is going into ICU for the next few hours for close monitoring, but I'm pretty confident that if all goes well he can be released tomorrow."

Mac let out a big sigh. "That's great news."

Brackett paused for a second then said, "One thing. I would prefer Pete not stay alone the first twenty-four hours after his release. Can you arrange something?"

"Of course. His partner is out of town, but I think I can convince him to stay at my place for just one night."

"Good deal. Now, Mac, I'll get you a list of possible side effects resulting from an overdose, but be aware sudden changes in mood can be common. I'll also have an appointment scheduled for him with a therapist before his release. He really should talk with someone about the ordeal to help him handle all the consequences."

"Thanks, Doc. Can I speak with him now? We may have a missing child involved with Pete's assault."

"Sure, I'll have Dixie take you up to see him. He should be settled in the ICU momentarily."

A few minutes later, Nurse McCall walked up to Mac in the waiting room. "Are you ready to see Officer Malloy?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Call me Dixie." She could see the worry all over Mac's face. "He's doing much better."

He nodded and let out the breath he was holding.

"Have you worked together long?"

As they rode the elevator up he glanced over at her and said, "We have worked together and been friends for over twelve years."

"You two must be close."

"You could say that. To be honest, I'm not looking forward to calling his partner with this news."

"If they're partners, why doesn't he already know?"

"His partner, Jim Reed, is on vacation. Pete was riding solo today."

The two walked up to the entrance into the ICU and stopped just outside of Pete's room. Dixie could see the anxiety in Mac as he first laid eyes on his officer and his friend, and she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Take all the time you need. There's a chair beside the bed you can use if you want to stay. Oh, and Mac, I have a bag with what's left of his uniform and gear on the chair, if you want to take it."

"Thank you, Dixie." He approached his bed cautiously as he took in the equipment surrounding him. Pete was hooked up to a heart monitor, fluids, and a nasal cannula delivering oxygen.

Another nurse scurried out of the room as Mac placed a hand on Pete's arm. "Pete, how are you doing?"

His eyes fluttered open, "Mac! ... I've been better." He paused, then Pete asked, "Is Tommy still ok?"

"Is Tommy, the boy who lost the dog?"

"Yes. I found ... his dog, Buster ... in the apartment."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Pete felt like he was still in a fog. He closed his eyes trying to remember what happened clearly enough to explain to Mac the needed details. "I was looking for the lost Beagle and found him in a vacant apartment." Pete rubbed over his forehead as the scene of the men crashing out of the rooms played out in his mind again. "But the apartment wasn't really empty." He paused, "Three men appeared with one holding out a gun. I didn't know what I stumbled upon until it was too late."

Mac tried to help Pete get through the story with a little encouragement. "So, what happened next?"

"One of the men kicked Buster across the room then the dog ran out of the building. I think he found Tommy outside, and they went home."

"Pete, are you telling me that Tommy never went inside the apartment?"

"Yeah, he was in the alley calling the dog."

"Are you sure, Pete? Or do I need to be looking for this boy?"

Pete pinched his eyes shut again and rubbed across his mouth with his fist. "He was outside. I think he was fine."

"OK, Pete. What happened next?"

"Then, things got worse. I had walked in on a drug dealer house, and they didn't want any witnesses, especially a cop. One man held me ... while another pulled out some drugs, ... Mac." Pete shook his head in disbelief. "I couldn't stop them." Pete got choked up with emotion.

"You ok, Pete?"

"Yeah."

"Pete, it's not your fault. No one could have stopped that." He paused for a minute. "I'm so sorry you went through this."

"Mac, I hate to say it, but it scared the hell out of me at so many levels."

"Pete, Dr. Brackett wants you to meet with a therapist here at the hospital before you get released. I think it's a really good idea."

He shook his head with self-doubt, "I don't know Mac, if I can do it."

"You can, Pete, and you will." He tried to redirect him back to the incident so he could document it in a report. "Can you remember any more details, Pete?"

"I think I can give you a decent description of the men. I never heard their full names, but one went by Bert, another was Derrick, and the third was called Jay. I can't remember much after the injection though."

He realized Pete was sounding very tired. "I'll get a sketch artist in here tomorrow. I should let you get some sleep."

Pete just nodded his head and closed his eyes as if someone just flipped a switch, and he was out.

Mac plopped down in the chair beside the bed. He jotted down some notes from what Pete shared and tucked the pad into his chest pocket. As he sat there he noticed the heart monitor beeps were slowing significantly when he heard an alarm sound. It startled him and he sat upright in the chair glancing around for what the problem was, and if anyone was noticing.

A nurse came in and quickly accessed the readings and went out to call the doctor. Less than one minute later, Dr. Brackett hurried into the room. He listened to his heart with his stethoscope then lifted his eyelids to check his pupil response with his penlight. "Nurse, Get me 2 mg of Naloxone stat!"

Hating to interrupt, but he needed to know, "Is he OK, Doc?" Mac asked trying not to sound panicked.

Brackett received the syringe and pushed the dose into Pete's IV himself. "He should be just fine. I was just waiting to see how long the reversal was going to last. With such a high heroin level initially his symptoms were bound to return. For the next few hours he'll just have to get the reversing agent hourly until the heroine is clear."

Kel watched as the heart rate picked up nicely within seconds of the injection. He looked over his chart to see the vitals recently taken before leaning over him again to check his pupils. "Much better." Kel noticed the paleness to Mac's face. "He's going to be OK. Try not to worry, Sergeant."

"It's just ... his condition changed so fast." Mac stuttered.

"That just shows how powerful some drugs can be."

Mac reluctantly stood. "I need to call in to the station, but I'll be back to stay with him, if that's OK."

"Go ahead. I'll stay with him until you're back." Dr. Brackett wanted to give some reassurance to Pete's superior.

Mac called the station and got an update from the men on the scene. After knocking on many doors, Woods and Brinkman had found the home of the boy who had lost his dog. Tommy and Buster were both safe and sound. His parents would stop at the station later with Tommy to give a complete report. They had success finding Malloy's weapon too. It had been dumped in a garbage can in the alley. Mac guessed the suspects didn't want to be caught with a police issued gun.

Several hours later, Pete was feeling ninety percent better. A sketch artist had come and worked with Malloy on the faces of the three men in his assault. Pete was now learning from Dr. Brackett that after his visit with the therapist, he could be released as long as he wasn't alone for the next twenty-four hours. Pete started to argue with Kel that he was a grown man and didn't need a babysitter.

Mac was back at the hospital after a couple hours of sleep, a shower, and putting on some fresh street clothes. He brought along a duffle bag with Pete's clothes from his work locker. As he stepped into Pete's room the disagreement continued. Kel repeated, "If you want to leave the hospital, these are my conditions. You may experience some minor side effects and being alone just isn't a smart idea."

With his head bowed and under his breath, he spoke, "OK Doc."

Kel, with both hands stuffed in his coat pockets, glanced over to Mac. "He's all yours in another hour." Kel looked back at Pete, "I'll call the nurse in and get your IV pulled, and then you can get dressed. The nurse can show you to Dr. Chaplin's office for your session. I'll see you after your meeting to sign your release papers and review a prescription you might need."

Mac looked at Dr. Brackett with great appreciation. He knew Pete needed his strong presence to accept the next steps in his recovery. Mac also knew that Jim was the only person Pete might accept help from. After Brackett left the room, Mac asked, "Did you want me to call Reed?"

"God, No! I don't need anyone else hovering over me like I'm an invalid."

"You know he would want to be called."

Pete stopped for a second, rubbing his face. His frustration was seeping over, and he knew his self-control was tittering on the edge. "I'm sorry, Mac. It's not that I don't want to be appreciative of your help and all. Can we please wait on that call?"

Mac felt sorry for his friend. He could see the inward battle over the unexpected emotions he was facing. "It's OK, Pete. Let's just take this one step at a time. I'll leave your things here." He sat the duffle on the chair beside the bed. "I'll go grab a paper and wait for you in the lobby unless you need something else."

A nurse came into the room prepared to remove Pete's IV catheter. Pete nodded to Mac. "Sounds good. Thanks, Mac."

Four days later, Pete was back at the Central Division Police Station. He came in early to get dressed while it was still quiet. He paused for a moment when he buttoned the cuffs of his long-sleeved uniform shirt feeling a bit self-conscious of the needle marks still present. When ready, he went to Mac's office to turn in the doctor's papers stating that he was cleared for duty.

The Sergeant sat at his desk getting organized for roll call when Malloy stepped through his office door. "How are you feeling, Pete?"

"Pretty good," he nodded with confidence.

"It looks like we have a line on one of the suspects in your assault case. His name is Derrick Sloan, and he has two prior narcotic felonies in Malibu."

"That is good news." Pete handed over a document to his superior. "Here"

As Mac looked over the return to duty form he asked, "Are you sure you're up for this already?"

"I'll be fine, Mac." He paused before he said, "Remember, I have my partner back."

Mac placed the form into a tray on his desk then asked, "Have you talked with Reed yet?"

"No, I didn't want to affect his anniversary celebration with Jean."

MacDonald rubbed his chin and shared, "I don't think he'll be very happy with us for not contacting him."

"Trust me, I know, but he'll get over it." Pete started to head out the door then suddenly stopped. Malloy turned back to face Mac then stepped closer. He stuck out his hand to shake, "Thanks again for being there for me." MacDonald not only grabbed his hand to shake it, but pulled him in for a hug with his other arm.

He whispered into his ear, "That's what friends are for."

The End


End file.
